


Calm in the Eye (of the Storm)

by Officer_Jennie



Series: InkTober 2018 [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Anbu Uchiha Itachi, Anxiety Disorder, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, light gore, pre-massacre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Kakashi still wasn’t sure how he ended up here: on his seventh mission with the Uchiha prodigy, a small civilian boy shaking in his arms, and a burning building collapsing on his newest teammate - another tally mark on his ever-growing record of failed, dead friends.Or: Kakashi is anything but calm, and finally resigns from anbu.





	Calm in the Eye (of the Storm)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not at all familiar with writing Kakashi, but here goes nothing I guess.
> 
> Short fic for InkTober. Prompt: storm. Written and edited in one day because I hate myself and never sleep.
> 
> Warning: Story focuses heavily on someone who suffers from PTSD and anxiety attacks.

Kakashi still wasn’t sure how he ended up here: on his seventh mission with the Uchiha prodigy, a small civilian boy shaking in his arms, and a burning building collapsing on his newest teammate - another tally mark on his ever-growing record of failed, dead friends.

He remembered being called into the hokage’s office one day after a rather trying mission - he specialized in solo missions, excelled at assassinations, there was no denying that, but each one left the taste of dust in his mouth, left the memory of blood on his hands. He had spent the night restless, haunted by the laugh that was permanently etched on the young girl’s now still face. Coming to see the sandaime so soon, running off caffeine and soldier pills, wasn’t high on his personal priority list, but it wasn’t like he could refuse a direct summons.

After being told he was to oversee Uchiha Itachi’s anbu application - application meaning a week long mission, just the two of them, in the northern region of Fire Country - he really wished he’d stayed in bed anyway, or stayed home at the very least.

He wanted to ask why Itachi. Why an _eleven year old_ was being recruited for _anbu_. Why a _child_ was allowed to join a group of _psychotic killers_. Instead, he leaned against the wall to his back, running a hand over his masked chin in mock contemplation. He didn’t allow concern to color his tone, his disgust to show on his face.

“Maa,” he drawled, feigning disinterest. He kept his one eye focused on the wall opposite him, refusing to meet his hokage’s gaze, refusing to allow anger to tense his shoulders, well-practiced ease keeping his muscles relaxed. “Would Uchiha-sama really approve of me watching over his precious little boy?”

Would he trust the friend killer to bring Itachi home? Want Kakashi of the Sharingan to travel for days alone with the clan heir? Trust him to save Itachi, when he’d failed so many before him?

He didn’t have to give voice to these questions - they followed him wherever he went, heavy in the silence around him.

The sandaime merely shuffled the files he was working on, glancing up only for a moment before moving them to the side, lacing his fingers together to prop his chin up. He spoke slowly, words chosen with diplomatic care. “Fugaku-san is aware of who will be overseeing Itachi-kun’s mission.”

Kakashi didn’t bother responding. He simply gathered what was needed for the mission, including the small boy he was to work with - to groom _to be like him_ \- and left.

One long and stressful mission later, and Kakashi was assuring his hokage that Itachi - _the boy, the child, too young_ \- was qualified for anbu. He was fast, efficient, and more than skilled enough to fit in their ranks.

He’d immediately rushed home when dismissed, and vomited profusely, shaking, piercing anger at himself for letting this happen, for not stopping them, for not _lying_ \- and for caring at all.

By the next day, he’d shoved it all to the back of his mind, along with all the others that he couldn’t change, couldn’t save. He didn’t think about how those big, dark eyes held the same gentle calm as Rin’s, how his fierce determination was so reminiscent of Obito, how the thoughtful frown mirrored the quiet intellect of sensei. Instead, he silenced his ghosts, putting Itachi firmly out of his mind. He wasn’t Kakashi’s problem anymore.

Except, apparently, he was.

Mission after mission, the child was put under his care. The copy nin did his best to remain professional, cold, distant, anything to keep him at arm’s length, to keep him _safe_. He made a point to ask his hokage, his respected and wise leader, why this _child_ \- scorn colored his tone, he couldn’t help it, hated this, hated how he could see so many dead faces on this one small boy - was always being made to trail him.

“He’s already anbu,” Kakashi added with a disinterested shrug. He didn’t need to play babysitter, preferred to work alone, to not be held back. He told himself that’s why he cared, even if he couldn’t quite convince himself entirely.

His comments were waved away as nothing of consequence. He didn’t push further - he didn’t care, shouldn’t care, wouldn’t _let himself care_ about someone, they didn’t concern him.

By their fourth mission together, Kakashi had to physically restrain himself from dressing the boy’s wounds. They were minor, inconsequential, non-lethal, and Itachi had both the capability and supplies to deal with them himself.

Kakashi took one look at them, and couldn’t breathe. He reached out to help, needed to fix this, to help him, to _stop the bleeding_ \- and recoiled, rushing out of their shared hotel room in a whirl of leaves before Itachi could notice anything, before he could see how his hands shook when he saw blood rip down the younger boy’s face - when it was no longer _Itachi_ he saw, but another boy, older, short and spiked hair, empty eye socket pulsing, blood everywhere, body crushed and weak and his fault _his fault his fault-_

By the fifth mission, he was keeping track of how much the Uchiha was eating. Watched him give his lunch away one day, confused gratitude mixing with joy on the orphan’s face, the lingering sorrow in Itachi’s coal eyes for the rest of the day. Saw someone else entirely in his place - all warmth and kind smiles, fire hair, caring eyes. Saw Kushina, dead, next to her too still husband and wailing child.

He found himself sneaking food into Itachi’s pack later, telling himself it was to keep him strong for the mission, pointedly ignoring his companion for the remainder of the mission. Ever watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Had to run from him again on the sixth mission, all because the boy _smiled_. A small twitch of pink lips, slight crinkle of his eyes, a quirk of his head, directed his way. He couldn’t stand how it made him feel, how it reminded him of all he’d lost, _of everything he didn’t deserve._

On the seventh, he saw red.

Both Konoha shinobi were running on little sleep and low chakra, Itachi especially considering his low stamina, when they ran into a group of enemy nin. Kakashi was busy holding off two nin, one baring their teeth as they struggled to push him back with a katana, the other flinging senbon and kunai that were easily deflected or dodged.

In his periphery, he saw realization hit Itachi like a brick. In the midst of their battle, a house had caught fire near them. The younger boy felled his last opponent with a swift kick to the gut and slash to his throat, splattering himself with blood at the uncharacteristically messy kill. An instant later, and he was throwing himself into the burning house despite the obvious personal risk.

A flash of red, and Kakashi overpowered the two remaining enemies, slaughtering them with barely a thought beyond _danger, fire, save him._ Bodies falling behind him already forgotten, the copy nin spun on his heels, rushing towards the house.

Just before he could reach the building, just before the walls and roof were crashing down on his kouhai, his responsibility, _his friend_ , a civilian boy was tossed out the window directly at him. He caught the child on instinct, the child’s life saved by reflex alone.

A groan of wood, and the house fell, Itachi buried underneath the burning rubble.

Someone was running towards him, all tears and cries of gratitude, and he shoved the boy into their arms, jolting forward. He put out what he could of the fire, frantically searching the collapsed structure with little regard to his own injuries. Breathing and seeing were becoming increasingly difficult, ash and smoke and white-hot panic filling his lungs.

When he finally heard a faint voice call out to him, a near pitiful whine tore unbidden out of his raw throat. He jumped towards the noise, throwing bits of wall and ceiling out of his way, rough wood tearing at his palms and fingers. At last, a dark head of hair came into view, face covered in dirt and sweat, the faint smell of blood, his eyes alarmingly unfocused - but breathing, alive _alivealive._

After carefully removing the support beam that had pinned Itachi to the ground, Kakashi drug him as far away from the death trap as he could manage, making it a good dozen yards before his own legs gave out, refusing to go any further. Itachi had a slight gash on his side, his right ankle sprained, right leg covered in cuts, the boy’s entire body sure to be painted in dark bruises within the week.

Kakashi took care to bandage each of his wounds, ignoring the quiet protests he received for his actions. But his hands were shaking, his lungs weren’t working right, and he couldn’t see, even with his sharingan uncovered, his vision blurred he just _couldn’t breathe couldn’t see._

Itachi finally caught his hands, a frown on his face, eyebrows drawn together. His eyes weren’t quite meeting his own, his body swaying a little, his words slurring when he spoke. “Shishou, it’s all right. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

A pained noise shook through the older man’s chest, and the dam broke. Kakashi jerked Itachi backwards, a gasp escaping the surprised boy, and then Kakashi was clutching him to his chest, sobbing, burying Itachi’s face into the cloth of his uniform.

As the attack fogged his senses, Kakashi was only vaguely aware that he was babbling. His shaking arms were wrapped tight around the small boy, his tears soaking into black hair, his words gasped and incoherent. The only clear words were pained confessions, his tongue betraying him, spewing out his regret, his fear, that he couldn’t lose someone else, another friend, couldn’t live with it, _couldn’t live with himself,_ if he _failed again._

After a few minutes of stiff confusion, Itachi eventually relaxed against him, tentatively sneaking thin arms around his captain to embrace him back. His voice was soft, though his words still slurred, as he attempted to calm the man breaking over him.

As the panic ebbed out of his body, the copy nin became aware enough to understand what was being said to him, nearly laughing as the boy honest to god apologized to him - the laugh becoming another sob as it tore out of his throat.

“I’m sorry, Shishou, I’m not…quite sure I understand…? I believe I’m concussed right now, but I’m sure whatever it is, it’s okay.” A hand patted at his back while he still struggled to breathe. “I’ll be fine. You’ve taken care of me, like you always do. It’s nice actually, no one does that for me.” There was a pause as Kakashi’s breathing finally became deeper, more calm. “…it’s nice to be worried about on occasion, to not be alone…so, thank you?”

When Kakashi was able to pull back at last, he looked down at the boy - with his dark, long hair, pale face, long eye lashes, face still soft from his age. He looked nothing like him, but in that moment, Kakashi was reminded of bright blue eyes and a strong hand in his hair. Of Minato, the only other person who’d ever comforted him like this, who’d ever seen him break.

After a few deep breaths, the copy nin puts his hands on either side of Itachi’s face, turning it from side to side, studying the unfocused glaze in his eyes. Then, with a sigh and a pat to the head, he swallowed down the rawness in his throat, coughing lightly. “Well, Itachi-kun, in my professional opinion, yes, you do indeed appear to be concussed.”

Itachi frowned, seeming to have completely forgotten his condition. Nevertheless, he allowed his captain to help him up with no complaint, practically having to be dragged the entire way back to Konoha.

When Kakashi finally entered the hokage’s office for his mission report, it was with his resignation from anbu, as well as a request to be placed on a three-man jounin team. Though the sandaime did not seem at all shocked by the news, he kept his comments to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Shishou: Captain  
> Kouhai: Subordinate/junior at work or school
> 
> Questions/comments are appreciated and welcome!


End file.
